She Dreamed of Paradise
by AGirlWithTheBrokenSmile
Summary: You've all heard of Victoire, the sweet, smart Ravenclaw, and Louis, the charming Gryffindor. But in the middle of these two is a young, red-headed Slytherin with a knack for flying. Her name is Dominique Weasley, and this is her story. Dominique/ Teddy. Years 1-7.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

**The Middle Child**

They say that being a middle child is a blessing. People, for some reason, in a state of illogical well-being, may often say that is the best place for a sibling to land in. An adored, sought-after spot that millions would kill to have.

What do I say to such people?

Think again, my friend. Think again.

You see, this delusional, yet common misconception is the sole reason for my demise. My parents seem to think that my position as a middle child is a great honor purely in itself. This leads to the insane conclusion that I, therefore, have no need for any special attention whatsoever.

Well, it's more like no attention at all, to be entirely honest. For example:

Mum: So, Victoire, my precious darling, how was your day?

Victoire: Oh! We baked cookies, played games...*continues to ramble*

Mum: That's absolutely fantastically wonderful, sweetheart!

Me: You want to hear about my day, Mum?

Mum: I'd rather not. I'm sure your day was great, but probably not as great as your sister's.

Well, it doesn't go exactly like that, obviously. Though I'd say that it's pretty bloody close.

Anywho, my point is: Being the second of three children may sound like a bucket of unicorn fur and chocolate, but it's not as easy as it's commonly made out to be. If you want me to generalize, to makes things easier to understand, here you go: When you're a middle child, you're not the oldest; the "wise" firstborn that brought the joy of parenthood to a happy couple for the first time. You're not the youngest; the long-awaited final addition to a happy family. You're simply the child born after the first, and before the last. Nothing special.

Now, if that doesn't diminish your wish to be a middle child, then I have absolutely no idea what will. Maybe talk to some other middle children, like Albus, for example. He's real little, but I'm sure he'll agree that it sucks. A lot.

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm telling you this. The answer: I need to set up a ground basis for the story I'm about to tell you; the reason my life could definitely improve on many levels. On many instances, you'll probably get bored at the rubbish, muggle pre-teen soap opera that is my life. But hang in there. Considering the fact that my dad's a war hero, and my uncle is Harry Potter, things are bound to get interesting.

**A/N**

**I know, yet another story. But I fully intend to finish this one!**

**:)**

**- Lily**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

**The Perks of Being Dominique Weasley**

If there's one thing you should know about me, it's this: While I'm not a budding social butterfly of spirit and energy, I'm not too terrible at making friends.

It's not exactly a talent, like it is with Louis, but then again, he has always been a charmer, even at his young, fake wand-waving age. Maybe it's his Veela blood (which is, believe it or not, present in all three of us, including me) or perhaps it's just natural. Either way, Louis is the one in the family that has the worshipped "popular potential" in his blood. Victorie, while popular enough, has more of a close group of mates, rather than hanging out with everybody. Me? Like I said, I'm generally okay at making new friends.

At least, I think I am.

However, as I stand nervously in front of the steaming Hogwarts Express for the first time, doubt creeps into my mind and implants itself there, spreading roots of worry and uncertainty into my already anxious thoughts.

_Who am I to think that I'm not socially awkward? After all, the only __friends I really have are my cousins..._

_What if I'm forced to hang out with Molly? Or worse, Victoire? __That would be a nightmare..._

_... what if I get sorted into Slytherin?_

The mere thought stops me in my tracks, my trolley abruptly coming to a halt.

Mum glances back at me, a worried expression flashing across her face. "Dominique, are you quite alright?" she asks, her eyebrows knit tightly together.

_No. Obviously I'm having a mental breakdown, right here in the train station. Can't you tell?_

"I'm fine, Mum." I reply unconvincingly, trying my best to keep the shakiness out of my voice. How can I ever be a Gryffindor if I get this nervous about making friends and all that girly rubbish that people like Victoire worry about?

Then again, Victoire is naturally a sweetheart, so of course she didn't have a problem reeling in a group of mates. I, on the other hand, have more of a right to be worried.

Mum nods, though, unsurprisingly, she doesn't look very assured. "Alright, then," she says, her lack of belief in my reply evident in her tone. "Are you ready to board?"

I nod, and that movement alone is difficult, my neck suddenly stiff. I begin to walk towards the train, and my legs are heavy, hard to move. I don't get very far, though. Mum shakes her head at me and says, "Oh, no, you don't." She grabs me by the elbow and spins me around rather harshly until I'm facing her. Then, she pulls me into a surprisingly gentle hug. "You didn't think you'd get away without a goodbye, did you?" she asks, her soft voice filled with amusement, and, though I might have been imagining it, a hint of affection.

I can only chuckle, because I don't know what to say. These moments are far and in between, and there's no need to ruin such a rare occasion with one of my not-thought-out-trying-to-be-funny comments.

Which is what _normally _happens when these moments occur.

Like I said: no need. No need to make that invetiable.

"I'm sorry your Father couldn't see you off," she whispers into my shoulder. "I know how important it was to you. For him to come."

I feel a bit embarrased when it's spoken out loud. Sure; I really wanted him to come. But it just sounds silly for an eleven year-old girl to want her father around for her first day of school. That's how annoying six year-olds are, not girls my age.

At least, in my opinion. Victoire would probably disagree simply because she's made this vow to never agree with me, lest the world end in fire and chaos.

It's unspoken, but we both know it's true.

Anyway.

I pull away, my cheeks slightly red. I shrug, trying to wave it off. "It's no big deal," I tell her. "Honestly. At least you're here, right?" I give her what I hope is a convincing grin.

Mum lets out a sigh, as if my answer is dissapointing, but to be expected. "I suppose that this old woman will be enough," she says, a smile lighting her face as well.

And it's one of _those _moments, you know? One without lovley Victoire, or adorable Lois. Just Mum and I. For once, it's not Mum and the middle child. It's Mum and quirky, cynical Dominique.

And it feels nice.

Mum stands up once more and takes her hands off my shoulders, giving me a once-over, the worry gradually fading from her blue eyes. "Well," she states, her smile gone, replaced with a look of order, "it looks like you're all set. I'll see you when you come home for the holidays, okay?"

I nod, straightening up as well, and reply, "I suppose so. Tell Dad I love him, all right?" I blush a little, despite myself.

Mum nods her understanding, and stands there for a moment, as if waiting for something. I raise an eyebrow. "Do you have something else to say?" I ask, a bit confused.

She shakes her head, looking a bit hurt. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What _is it_ with this woman?

I give her one last smile and turn away, pushing my trolley in front of me as I do. From behind me, I hear her yell, "Stay out of trouble, will you?"

I smile.

_No promises._

* * *

They say that making friends is easy if you know where to look.

At least, that's what uncle Ron says. And who knows how reliable he is?

It narrows the search down a little, though. Now I know to find friends on the train, because I certainly didn't know that before.

Right.

After I'm done loading my trunks into the large compartment area of the train, I take my smaller suitcase and hop onboard, my arm aching slightly from the heavy weight of the case. I awkwardly make my way down the hall, my eyes searching out a compartment holding kids who look about my age. I spot one pretty quickly, and slowly pull the glass sliding door open.

I'm met by glares all around the room. I clear my throat, my face on fire. "I was, er, wondering if perhaps, I could, possibly...er, sit here?"

The steely looks give me the answer.

Against my will, I make an embarrassed noise in the back of my throat, and hear one of the kids snickering. "Er, I'll go then. Have a nice day," I say quietly, and slam the door back in place, quickly as possible.

I hastily make my way down the hallway, my face still burning with humiliation.

_Well, that went positively fantastic, didn't it? What a great start to what could possibly be the worst day of my life..._

"Dominique?"

_And now it just got worse._

I turn around, towards the source of the noise. "Teddy!" I say, trying to shove some enthusiasm into my voice. It's not that I don't like the often blue-headed thirteen year-old; I do. But you see, I made this promise to myself before coming here: Do not be, under any circumstances, be friends with cousins. Make friends outside of family.

And Teddy is my cousin.

Well, sort of. We're actually not related by blood, but still. He's an honorary realitive, so he counts.

But that's not the point.

Teddy Lupin quirks an eyebrow, seeing straight past my charade of excitement. That's the slightly annoying, slightly useful thing about Teddy: he can see past deception like it's the pink elephant in the room. Annoying because it's nearly impossible to lie to him, useful because he's a great lie detector when it comes to Louis being a brat and stealing my things.

"Be happy, Dom," he says, smiling brightly, as usual. An irritating ball of sunshine, he is. "It would do you some good, it seems." He catches up to me and and plants himself in front of me, hovering over my five-foot-one self with his also irritating tallness.

I hold back a very not-classy (or, as Mum would put it, _unladylike_) snort, and opt with a wide grin, instead. "You think _everybody _could be happier, Teddy," I reply, not hiding my amusement at his signature slap-happy mood. "Probably because you're never _not _happy."

Teddy simply shrugs, his amber eyes mischevious. "Double negative, Dom," he replies, a smirk pulling at his lips.

I roll my eyes, continuing my walk down the hall. "Like you actually care," I say. "And it's _Dominique_, not _Dom_."

Teddy just grins. "Whatever you say, Dom."

He just smiles even wider at my glare.

I'm telling you: one of these days, I'm just going to punch that kid in the face; so hard, all the sunshine and rubbish will be knocked out of him and fly straight out to Mars.

Apparently not receiving the message that I don't really want to talk to him at the moment, Teddy uses another one of his brilliant conversation starters. "So, what's got your knickers in a twist?"

See what I mean? _Brilliant_, he is.

I consider not replying, thinking that he might just give up and walk away. I do exactly that, and walk faster down the hall, my eyes scanning the compartments once more.

I should've known better, of course. He just walks with me, not saying a word, waiting for a reply. I can practically hear him cracking up inside his head.

When it's clear that he's not going to give up, I sigh deeply, exasperation coursing through my veins. I turn around and cross my arms. "Please, Teddy, if you have something to say, _say it_. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a tad bit busy at the moment."

Teddy looks amused, which only annoys me more. "I haven't noticed, actually. Care to share what you're so _busy _doing? Because it looks to me like you're just looking for a compartment."

That _is _exactly what I'm doing, of course. But when you say it out loud like that, it just sounds dumb.

"It's much more important than that," I explain, using my "you're-an-idiot" tone, for kicks. "I'm looking for..." my voice falters, and I realize I have no idea what to say. Saying that I'm "looking for friends" sounds childish. And idiotic. There's no need to sound like _that_, so I finish awkwardly, "...people my age to hang out with."

Teddy raises an eyebrow. "You're trying to make friends?"

My face heats up, and I stutter pathetically, "Well, when you say it like that..."

The thirteen year-old just laughs, shaking his blue-covered head at me. "Dom," he says between chuckles, "you have the biggest range of friends to choose from, more than anyone in this school. I mean, you're _famous_. You're the daughter of two war heroes, one of whom is the brother-in-law of Harry Potter. You'll have people dying to be your best friend."

I shoot him a hopeful look. "Is that how it was when you came here?"

He shrugs. "Sort of. But it'll be different for you. You're related to the great Harry Potter, after all." He makes air quotes around the word "great."

I give him an inquisitive look. "You're related to him, too," I argue. "You're his godson."

He shrugs once more, his joyful façade faltering slightly. "Not by blood, though." His down expression makes me feel a bit bad for ruining his happy mood.

I roll my eyes and punch him in the shoulder, attempting to lighten the suddenly depressed atmosphere. "Don't be such a downer, Teddy," I say, smiling. "You're an honorary family member, and that's just as important as a blood relative. It's also the reason why I shouldn't be talking to you at the moment."

He looks over at me, interest replacing his sudden sorrow. "What do you mean by that? Of course you can talk to me. We, are, after all, family. Apparently."

I bite down an exasperated sigh and say, "Well, that's just the problem. You see, I made a promise to myself."

"What kind of promise?"

"I'm not going to be friends with anyone in my family," I state, rather bluntly.

Teddy stares at me for a moment, a slightly shocked expression flashing across his face. "Well. That's harsh."

I roll my eyes again and reply, "Well, not immediately. You see, becoming best friends with a family member, that's the cheater's way out-"

"The cheater's way out?"

"Stop interrupting, will you?" I scowl, irritated at his naturally curious nature. "Anywho-"

"Any_who_?"

"Oh, for Merlin's _sake_, Teddy, _shut up_." Ignoring his snickers, I continue, "_Anyway_, I've decided that I should be friends with someone that isn't a family member because doing that is unhealthy. Sure, it's great and all to be close to your family members. But I need to expand my horizon-"

"Expand your horizon? What is this, some cheesy muggle-"

"For the sake of you and your family, be quiet before I smack you so hard your face falls off. Now, as I was saying, I need to have friends outside of family, because if I don't, I'll be labeled as an antisocial freak."

Teddy snorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of the hallway, ignoring the annoyed insults spat out by some passing sixth-year. "So," he prompts, "does this benefit your own well-being, or are you doing this so that you're more popular in the social crowd?"

I laugh shortly. "What are you, my guidance counselor?" I stop as well, mimicking his pose. "Why does it matter?"

It comes out ruder than I intended, and he looks slightly put down. "It doesn't, I guess." He uncrosses his arms and looks away sadly.

I scowl and ignore his kicked-puppy expression, along with the voice in my head that's telling me to apologize.

_Gosh darn it, conscience. Leave me alone, will you_?

Sighing, I say, despite myself, "Look, I get that you're trying to help, but I can handle myself." I stand up straighter and uncross my arms, trying harder to prove my point.

Teddy laughs, though he doesn't sound very amused. "You're an eleven year-old kid," he says condescendingly, smirking slightly, as if he's just scored a point in some game we're playing.

"Yeah, and you're a thirteen year-old antisocial. Not exactly a source of wisdom, if you ask me," I retort sardonically, crossing my arms again. No mature posture is going to prove my point. Not when I'm talking to Teddy Lupin.

Instead of getting angry like I expect him to, he smiles, succeeding in irritating me. Again. "Well, then we can both be antisocial freaks together," he suggests, mirth sparking to life in his eyes once more.

I bite my cheeks to hide the smile that I feel dragging the corners of my lips upwards. "Now who's sounding like a cheesy muggle movie?" I ask, raising a single eyebrow, figuring that was what he tried to say earlier, when he very rudely interrupted me.

He laughs, and this time, it's real. "How about you come sit with me in my compartment? Believe it or not, I do have one friend."

I make a face of mock surprise. "Really? Well, dear me, someone call the Aurors. I think we might have a situation!" Teddy chuckles, and I continue, "You see, Teddy, I would, but remember my rule? We just discussed this."

He rolls his eyes. "Now you're sounding like Professor McGonagall." He ignores the slightly pathetic slap that lands on his arm, and goes on, "Besides, technically, we're not family. We're not blood-related."

I sigh. "We just discussed this, too. Just because you're not blood-"

"Doesn't mean you're not family, I know. But _technically_-"

"If I go to your compartment, will you shut up?"

"Yes."

"Alright, then. Show the way."

* * *

**A/N**

**I intended for this to be longer, but I didn't want to squish the train ride and the sorting into this chapter. **

**What did you think? I would love it if you left me a review! They do make me update faster, after all... :)**

**I would like to think the two people who reviewed my last chapter. I normally don't get reviews of prologues, so it meant a lot. **

**:)**

** -Lily**

**P.S.**

**If you sneezed while reading this, bless _you_!**


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